I make love with a focus and intensity that most people reserve for sleep.
I love being in love, but I also love other things, like not being jealous, overly sensitive, or needy.
Our love was a two-person game. At least until one of us died, and the other became a murderer.
She asked if I loved another woman, so I answered honestly and said, “Dinner was great, but I could go for dessert.
If I could bronze my love, it’d be worthy of a silver medal.
I had a dream about you. We installed Dr. Robert Jarvik’s artificial heart in a mannequin and brought it to life, only to later kill it because a creature that’s all fake heart and no brain is what’s commonly called a “politician,” and must be destroyed.
I had a dream about you. In my dream I stole all your money, kidnapped your parents, and mailed you mannequin parts spray-painted red in a series of packages that also included ransom notes. Then, towards the end of the dream, the cops surrounded my cave and swarmed in to arrest me. Sweating, my eyes shot open, and I realized it was a dream. “Of course it’s a dream,” I thought. “The cops have no idea where my cave is, and your first package has yet to be delivered.”
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